


Two Pheasants

by Freya_Kendra



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freya_Kendra/pseuds/Freya_Kendra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair's stream of semi-consciousness after a good day in the woods turns bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Pheasants

In a field. Feel of bristly straw beneath my probing fingers. Smell of damp soil. And earthworms. The rain is gone, the air dry. Frogs and toads speak to that recent rain, croaking and chirping against the night.

It must be night. Only at night would so many crickets cry out that competitive rhythm.

Everything is in competition. Crickets. Frogs. Toads. The throbbing ache behind my eyes. The strange call of some wild bird I can't name. A pheasant, maybe. I saw two yesterday.

I can't see anything now.

I wish I could see the stars. There must be a million up there, out here.

Here is where? Far from the city. No screeching tires. No heavy bass beats pounding out the latest hip-hop. No exhaust fumes. No diesel engines. Nothing but me. And the frogs and toads and crickets and that bird. Wild turkey, maybe.

Wild turkey. I could use some right about now. Jack Daniels would be better. Something to take off the chill.

Shivering. I can't remember getting cold. I don't remember not being cold. Cold is now. Everything is now. But now can't be all there is. Can it?

But I saw two pheasants yesterday. How can everything be now if there was a yesterday? If there were two pheasants, then there must have been a yesterday. What else existed in yesterday? My sight, because I saw two pheasants. Two pheasants frightened into flight. Chased into the woods. Chased.

Was I chased into the woods? Frightened into flight?

Flight and sight, two things that existed yesterday, but not now. So there is more than now. And if there was a yesterday, there must also be a tomorrow.

Then what will exist tomorrow? Frogs, toads and crickets? Or like flight and sight, maybe it will all just disappear. That would mean nothing would exist tomorrow. And if nothing exists tomorrow, there can't actually be a tomorrow. Which could mean now is all that exists. Which would mean there could not have been a yesterday.

But there was a yesterday. I'm sure of it.

I saw two pheasants. They were frightened into flight. Chased into the woods. Frightened by sound. A loud sound. Explosions. Gunfire?

I saw two pheasants. I had smoked pheasant once. Some guy who lived out in the woods. He smoked them himself. Smoked other things, too. I could use some of that right now. Some of that other stuff he smoked. To take away this throbbing in my head. And the chill.

I had smoked pheasant once.

That must mean there were other yesterdays, before yesterday. So now is not all there is. Which means there has to have been a yesterday. Because something existed yesterday. Not nothing. Which means something has to exist tomorrow. Nothing didn't exist yesterday, and nothing can't exist tomorrow.

A double negative. But it's okay. A double negative makes a positive, which means something has to exist tomorrow. Something. But maybe not me.

Why wouldn't I exist tomorrow? Because I barely exist today. Because I lost flight and sight and who knows what else.

I saw two pheasants and was frightened into flight. I flew into the woods. But not with wings. No. I ran.

But there were two pheasants. Were there two me's?

I saw two pheasants. I asked Jim if he'd ever had home-smoked pheasant.

I asked Jim. I was with Jim. Not two me's. Me and Jim.

It's always me and Jim. Partners. We watch each other's backs.

I'm on my back. Lying down in a field of straw, surrounded by frogs and toads and crickets, and some wild bird whose call I don't recognize.

But we watch each other's backs. How can we do that if I'm on my back, so he can't be watching it? And I can't see to watch his. And where is his?

Jim?

Flight and sight and speech. Three things that existed yesterday, but not now. I cannot speak. I hear nothing but my own breathing. And frogs. And toads. And crickets. And that bird.

And explosions. Gunfire? That was yesterday. Or today. Before. Before now.

No, I hear it now, too. Gunfire. And I hear the rustle of straw in the field near me. And the whoosh of wings as a bird takes flight.

Frightened into flight.

I heard gunfire. The sharp thwack of bullets hitting wood. Jim shouted, "Go!" And we ran into the woods.

But I'm not in the woods now. I'm in a field. With the frogs and toads and crickets. But the bird is gone. Frightened into flight.

We flew through the woods. Chased by gunfire. Then something hit the back of my head. And I lost my sight. And my flight.

And now I'm here. In a field of straw. Because Jim couldn't watch my back. Because he was running, too. Right beside me. Because that's what we do. We stay at each other's side. Partners.

He watched my back. He carried me back here.

"These rocks will protect you," he said. Because he is my protector. But he couldn't protect me. Because he had to stop the gunfire. And I couldn't help him.

I couldn't watch his back. And he couldn't watch mine. And he couldn't stay at my side and protect me at the same time. So he left me here, protected by rocks. And he went back into the woods to stop the gunfire. To protect me. Because that's what partners do.

Now I'm here. In a field of straw. Protected by rocks. Listening to frogs and toads and crickets. But no gunfire. The now that included the gunfire has melted into the now that does not.

In this now, there's just me. And frogs and toads and crickets. And no bird. Because the bird was frightened into flight. And time is passing. Because the bird was here, but now it's gone. Gone, like my flight and sight.

And if time is passing, then tomorrow is coming. And something has to exist tomorrow, or time wouldn't pass at all. And nothing can't exist tomorrow. And double negatives are okay, if you want to make a positive.

And I lost my flight and sight. Sounds like a double negative to me. Which means there has to be a positive coming, right? Like tomorrow, it has to exist.

Think positive. Think. I think my head hurts. And my hands are shaking, chaffing my useless fingers against the coarse straw. And the frogs and toads and crickets are all starting to sound alike. All I can hear is a distant buzzing sound.

And one word. "Blair?"

I open my eyes. And finally see the stars.

I hear the sound of a voice muffled by water. "We made it, Chief. It's over. And you're gonna be just fine. You hear me, Blair? Come on. Look at me. Let me know you can hear me."

Something moves in front of the stars. It's Jim. My partner.

Jim?

I still can't hear my own voice. But I can feel my mouth moving. It's a start. And my sight is back. Flight must be next.

"Cavalry's here, buddy. Simon saved the day, just like in the movies."

I realize I can smell Simon. I recognize him by the cigar. He wouldn't have lit a cigar if there were still bad guys around. Bad guys with guns. Chasing two pheasants into the woods.

It really must be over. And tomorrow really must be coming.

Someone else is saying something. But I can't hear all the words. The buzzing is getting too loud.

"... back of the head ... thick skull ... little blood."

A helicopter. That's what's buzzing.

Sight and flight.

"We're gonna get you out of here, Chief."

Sight and flight.

And I can feel them strapping me in, securing me for the ride home. The flight home.

Jim? I don't like to fly.

But I still can't speak.

I remember two pheasants, frightened into flight, as I shiver through my own frightened flight to the hospital.

And I know that tomorrow exists. I even know what will exist tomorrow. Jim. Jim and me. At each other's side. Watching each other's backs. Because it's what we do.

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> This stream of consciousness concept was translated to a longer Bonanza fic, in which Little Joe is the one injured. See "The Grizzly and God's Hands" for that version.


End file.
